


You felt lonely.

by ZAIBACH



Category: Death Note
Genre: College AU, F/M, Genderbending, Light is a girl and also kind of a fucking mess but it's whatever, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZAIBACH/pseuds/ZAIBACH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The incredibly monotonous seduction of one pasty lit professor, and other embarrassments tacked onto Light Yagami's good name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You felt lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> A completely self-indulgent work I wrote two years ago. If second-person's POV and genderbent artistic liberty isn't your thing, don't bother.

There’s homework on your desk, forgotten, probably important. You can’t bring yourself to care right now, with the moon in your eyes and a weight in your chest. You can’t move, can scarcely even breathe and this is all the result of thinking about the future. In simpler times, you would have smiled and said “I have everything worked out” and spout all different career paths that you could pursue and your eyes would glow with passion and health.

Now it just hurts. Every inch of you is sore because you don’t know what’s going to happen you’re not in  _control_ and it hurts more than anything else. It’s the first time you’ve been so close to your ideal future,  _you can taste it,_ but it’s not what you want. Not anymore.

Your father had always been a respectable man ,you thought. You admired him enough and he had done well for himself, being able to secure a family and a steady job, though it was one that rarely kept him happy (you suppose that’s one thing you have in common with him). In childhood, you had looked up to him, looked at him with sparkling eyes and determination. You wanted to be everything your father was.

But that required so much work and pressure and  _stress,_ god you were so stressed.

Stress is the reason you’re having such a hard time right now, after all. It’s so stupid, really, lying on your bed out of breath, feeling like you’re dying. How pathetic. You reach to your journal (the one kept under your mattress) and the pen tucked safely inside it. You had taken to stream of consciousness writing in times of distress, and this was as good a time as any. Most of the time the things you wrote were fanciful, nonsensical things, poetry and prose, freeform. Anything that suited you (it changed daily). 

This was the one habit you had that was healthy, though you were not proud of it. The thing you liked to write about most was romance, after all, and that was just not fitting for a woman of your temperament. Things like love and waxing poetic about how someone’s hair smelled were just idiotic, yet you kept on.

About your language professor, which was a crime in itself.

You’d never really thought about being infatuated with someone, not emotionally. You understood attraction, of course, as there had been many boys (and girls) who had caught your eye. Attraction was easy. Attraction was a smirk and a subtle turn of the eyes until you got what you wanted and then you were done. It was over.

Prolonging that seemed foolish and foolish things were hardly in your repertoire. That was until you set your sights on possibly the most bizarre person on this decaying Earth. Professor Lawliet. Of course, someone as odd as him  _would_ be the only person you were interested in, the untouchable, the impossible. You refused to accept the fact you had a- a crush. It was hard to ignore when your heart beat like a hummingbird when he so much as glanced at you and said your name in that low tenor of his. 

And there you go, acting like a teenage girl and not the responsible, mature woman you were supposed to be. 

You supposed it wouldn’t be hard to get someone like L to be somewhat interested in you, since your looks were above average (nearly godly if you did say so yourself) and you could charm a nun out of her robes. This was all fine and dandy, but the real problem was that you knew next to nothing about L’s personality. You knew he was a selfish bastard at times, and that he liked sweets, and sometimes he walked home in rainy weather. All little things, nothing that would pinpoint his sexual preference or his taste in women (if he had any).

You saw this as a challenge, a conquest,  if you will . An opportunity if you were feeling clinical. Instead of complaining in your godforsaken diary, you would go out and tell the damned man how you felt and it would be over with. Simple as that. You could do this, you could do anything.

 Ah, it’s so nice to have your mind straight for once. 

It’s with the best of intentions that you wear your hair parted differently that day and your skirt a good inch above it’s usual length. Not to mention your undergarments actually match this time. You’d always been known to give your all at everything, and this was it. Lawliet’s class was the last of the day, so that gave you more time to…what were you doing again? Seducing him sounded too slutty and befriending him sounded elementary. No matter, your work didn’t need a name and it was best to get on with it.

You waited until the very end of his lecture to approach him, the other students shuffling out, and your heels clacking rhythmically against the tiled floor. There he was, in all of his pasty white glory, hair askew as usual that achieved a look that screamed “sensitive-young-writer-with-a-troubled-past-who-couldn’t-be-arsed-with-his-appearance”. Or at least that was what you inferred, and you were always good with that sort of thing.

He hardly seemed to notice your presence at his messy desk, too encompassed with some sugary cavity on a stick. That would  _not_ do. You clear your throat loudly, finally getting his attention. He looks at you like you’re a particularly mangy stray cat, like he doesn’t give two shits about how you feel  _and we are getting off track, Light._

_“_ Something you need, Miss Yagami?” he says quietly, biting the pad of his thumb. A disgusting habit, but one you were guilty of from time to time. You give him one of your winning smiles, though not too bright as to be overwhelming. He doesn’t look too charmed.

“Ah, it’s nothing too pressing, I’m afraid, so sorry to waste your time. I just wanted to commend you on your lecture today. You talk about Oscar Wilde’s work with such passion,” another smile “…I just wanted to say I really admire you. And maybe you would consider getting coffee with me sometime?”

Not as smoothly as you had planned, but it certainly got the point across. 


End file.
